Red Umbrella
by Mr. Cereal
Summary: The story of an orphan boy, an orphan girl and a red umbrella.


The hot air wafted invitingly from the store as Nagato stood under the tattered awning, sheltering from the incessant rain. His stomach gave another protesting growl at the smell of hot food. He knew from experience that it probably wasn't anything more than rock yam and maybe a little wild hare – finding anything else was nigh impossible - but the hunger gnawing at his belly made it a mouth-watering smell.

He took a timid step towards the front door, leaning his famished body on the door frame. The heady aroma of the cooking smelt delicious to Nagato as it washed through him. He stole a furtive glance around the store. There were a number of adults sitting on long benches, quietly spooning up their yam stew, their glumness evident in their stooped backs and bowed heads.

A new customer stepped in through the door and plopped his sopping wet umbrella into an umbrella stand by the door, ignoring the thin little boy beside him. Nagato's attention was momentarily drawn to the umbrella stand, where a cornucopia of bright colours and patterns was represented in its umbrellas – canary yellow, verdant green, neon orange, cobalt blue... all mixed together in myriad swirls and slashes of garish liveliness. Oiled paper umbrellas, Nagato remembered vaguely, were the Land of Rain's main export before the war. At least in this respect, the Land of Rain did not seem to be lacking.

The irony of the bright umbrellas and their dour owners was not lost on Nagato. The people of the Land of Rain, it seemed to him, were overcompensating for how powerless and downtrodden they were in everyday life by outdoing each other and the world in flamboyant umbrellas.

Nagato's eye was in particular caught by a solid-red umbrella amongst the riot of colours. Although not nearly as bright or flamboyant as the rest of the umbrellas, its regal yet fiery shade of crimson possessed an effortless elegance that put its peers to shame. It was plain and unadorned, but for some reason, Nagato preferred it over the others.

A movement in Nagato's peripheral vision disrupted his fascinated reverie. A hard-faced man, probably the proprietor of the store, had noticed him, and was striding briskly towards him. He made shooing motions at Nagato, clearly annoyed.

Nagato steeled himself. He thrust out his grimy palms when the proprietor neared. "Please, sir, may I have some-"

"No!" the proprietor hissed. "I barely get enough to keep this place open. Now away with you!"

When Nagato did not budge the proprietor gave him a hard shove, and Nagato fell backwards into the rain. He landed hard in a muddy puddle. Nagato felt a lick of anger at the proprietor for pushing him, but he lacked the energy to get up again, so he lay in the puddle, feeling the pressure of the rain on the back of his bare neck. Seeing Nagato's dejection, the proprietor's face softened a bit. "Tough luck, kid. But in times like these I gotta take care of my own first."

Nagato was feeling sharp pangs of nausea due to hunger, but eventually he managed to drag himself off the road to an abandoned shopfront nearby, propping himself against the mossy wall. The overhead awning had fallen into disrepair, so that patches of rain fell in through the holes.

He did not know how long he sat there, but he felt himself slip into a fitful, hunger-deprived sleep, the raindrops or a passerby jolting him awake every now and then.

_The rain seems to have stopped._

Blearily, he half-opened his eyes. It was, as usual, still raining, in fact even heavier than before – but it wasn't raining on him. He glanced up, and saw the solid-red of the umbrella he was idly admiring just now. There was a blue-haired angel, no, a girl holding the umbrella. She was perched deftly on the low windowsill of the shopfront.

Now she reached inside her tunic, and brought out a number of rock yams. Without waiting for her permission, Nagato grabbed one of the yams and sank in. It was cold, but it was food. He wolfed down the first rock yam before he slowed down and began to savor the starchy sweetness of the yam in his mouth.

Reaching for his third yam, Nagato abruptly remembered the girl. "Is… that your umbrella?" Nagato asked through a mouthful of yam.

The girl smiled angelically down at him. "Nope. Neither were those yams."

Nagato had to think for a few moments about what she said. "Isn't that illegal?"

She giggled conspiratorially. "Only if you get caught."

Nagato felt the beginnings of a grin tug at the corners of his mouth. He took another bite of the yam, savoring the solid way it went down his gullet. "Where do you live?"

"Nowhere."

Nagato nodded in understanding. She didn't need to say anything else. "Me neither."

"Look, I made this," the girl said, handing him an exquisite flower with the same elegant crimson hue as the umbrella. "It's yours."

It was not only till he held it in his hands when he realized it was made of paper. "It's beautiful." Glancing up again he spied rain pouring through a square hole on the umbrella.

The girl clambered down from the windowsill. "I'm Konan."

He clutched the paper flower close to keep it from the rain. "I'm Nagato. Nice to meet you."

* * *

**A/N: Right, this is a response to Darkkinkachu's challenge on the Naruto Challenges Forum, just a fun little project in between writing 'I, Spy'. The criteria were: [a] something to do with a red umbrella, [b] 500 words and above, and [c] the line "Isn't that illegal?". Whew, I've never done a challenge before, but I had lots of fun writing this! For the link to the challenge thread just go to my profile. Reviews appreciated. =]**


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